


Minding the Gap

by dracoqueen22



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Chroma Conclave Arc, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 00:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: It should be the easiest task Vox Machina has ever given him, but Shaun Gilmore makes Jarett’s heart race like no other.





	Minding the Gap

_“Keen an eye on Gilmore for us, will you?”_  
  
Of all the tasks Vox Machina had ever given him, Jarett thought this one would be the easiest. Looking after one man? It shouldn’t have required anything more than his most marginal skills. Especially considering that the man in question was a powerful wizard and didn’t need anyone’s protection.  
  
It wouldn’t have been so hard if Jarett’s knees hadn’t turned to jelly, and his heart started an abrupt rhythm, every moment he entered Shaun Gilmore’s presence.  
  
It was impossible not to be swept up in Shaun’s pace. He was a vivacious man, with a smile quickly shared, and a pain in his eyes, if you cared to look.  
  
Jarett cared.  
  
To look! He cared to look! It was all part of looking after Shaun, yes? Keeping an eye on his well-being? Jarett had to pay attention. It was part of his job.  
  
He might have intercepted Sherry on her way to delivering Shaun’s breakfast. She might have given him the stink-eye when he’d offered to take it instead.  
  
It might have sent a shiver up his spine. Magic-users. Feh. Jarett didn’t understand them. Rightly feared them.  
  
Except Shaun Gilmore.  
  
He was powerful. Jarett knew this. A man couldn’t stand up alone against an ancient dragon and survive if he wasn’t powerful. A single man couldn’t sustain this barrier -- albeit with Trickfoot’s help -- if he wasn’t powerful.  
  
But there was something so disarmingly gentle about Shaun, it was impossible to be afraid of him. Intrigued, yes. Attracted? Oh, very easily. But afraid?  
  
Fear had never so much as crossed Jarett’s mind.  
  
Jarett stood outside the house which had been given to Shaun, breakfast in one hand, and looked down at himself. His clothes were neat. Neater than he could remember given that he now had the uniform of the Whitestone guard, all fancy and pale and etched with gray. Proper, like Percival was, and Jarett was not surprised to learn Percival had been and was still titled.  
  
Some things a person couldn’t shake.  
  
He’s getting off subject.  
  
Jarett was currently neat, clean, and -- he checked -- smelled like lavender and sandalwood, thanks to Keyleth’s soap. It would have to do.  
  
He knocked.  
  
“Just a moment!”  
  
Jarett waited. Shaun hadn’t sounded as if he were distressed, but then, Jarett didn’t know him all that well yet. He did, however, sound tired, which was to be expected given the weight of what was expected of him. The burden of protecting an entire city from a conclave of ancient dragons was no easy burden to bear.  
  
The door opened. Shaun Gilmore stood framed by the morning light, his hair a frazzle around him, a robe hastily thrown over his shoulders, though gaping a bit at the chest, revealing curls of dark hair trailing downward.  
  
Jarett forced himself not to follow the trail lest he offend.  
  
“Oh, good morning, Captain,” Shaun said, and he almost sounded disappointed. Expecting Vax’ildan, perhaps. Jarett was not unaware of the dance between the two. “Is there something wrong?”  
  
“No, no, nothing at all.” Jarett offered a reassuring smile and resisted the urge to tug at his collar, which suddenly felt a bit too tight. “I brought breakfast.” He lifted the little picnic basket Sherry had been clutching. “I’m told you don’t eat enough.”  
  
Shaun blinked at him. “I… you brought me breakfast?” He looked so flummoxed, Jarett had to swallow a laugh. Shaun straightened and tucked his robe tighter around his body. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but why?”  
  
"Because everyone should eat breakfast, and I'm sure you could use the company," Jarett replied, trying for his most charming smile. It had caused many a lady to swoon,and more than a few men. "May I come in?"  
  
"Oh." Shaun's eyes widened before he dipped his head as though abashed. "Where are my manners? Of course. Come in. Would you like some tea?" He stepped back, holding the door open invitingly.  
  
"I don't guess you have anything stronger, eh?" Jarett asked as he surveyed the front room, neatly tidied after the assassins had made quite the mess. Sherry's work perhaps. She looked after her master like family was wont to do.  
  
Gilmore chuckled, and the sound of it sent rolling tingles up Jarett’s spine. It was cosmically unfair for a man to be as enticing as Shaun Gilmore.  
  
"Captain, it's quite early for such a thing, is it not?" He vanished into the kitchen in a waft of spice and amber, and Jarett caught a hearty glimpse of bare leg dusted with dark hair and calves which had never seen a day on the battleground.  
  
Jarett’s mouth went a little dry.  
  
"Depends who you ask," Jarett said.  
  
There was a small table set off to the side, two chairs arranged around it, and it was perched in front of a curtained window. The perfect spot for a friendly breakfast in Jarett's opinion. So he opened the curtains to let in the dim morning, and started to pull out the food.  
  
The smell of bacon and eggs and fried potatoes made his stomach grumble. Jarett wasn't normally one to bother with a hearty breakfast, but suddenly, he could see the appeal. Perhaps in the future, he should do more than grab an apple to go.  
  
Shaun returned with a tray floating along beside him, steam rising from an ostentatious teapot and two delicate teacups resting on tea plates with nary a rattle. "I took the liberty of choosing for you. A breakfast black should do nicely."  
  
"I trust your judgment."  
  
Shaun had taken the time to change as well, apparently. Gone were the nightclothes offering Jarett illicit glimpses of brown skin and soft edges. Shaun was robed in more familiar dress now, the purple and gold trim, the jewelry, the lines of kohl and sparkle around his eyes, beard expertly trimmed. He looked far more alert than he had when answering the door, though exhaustion hung around him in a haze, defiant against his attempt to appear otherwise.  
  
"My, this is quite the breakfast you've brought," Shaun observed as the tray of tea came to rest in the middle of all Jarett had laid out. "It feels like a special occasion."  
  
Jarett pulled out a chair, gesturing for Shaun to take it. "We're still alive, aren't we? I think that's something to celebrate."  
  
"Indeed." Shaun glanced at the chair and offered Jarett a broad smile. "You are quite the gentleman as well." He took the seat. "Should I be wary of an ulterior motive?"  
  
Jarett chuckled. "If someone taking care of you is seen as nefarious, I think maybe you've been around the wrong people, Master Gilmore."  
  
"Oh, no. Please. Call me Shaun." Shaun made a face of distaste, wrinkling his nose, which had no right to be so adorable on an adult man, save that it was. "I don't know who Master Gilmore is, but he's certainly not me."  
  
"Then you'd better call me Jarett," Jarett replied as he pushed Shaun's plate nearer to him, trying to entice with the aroma of peppered bacon and potatoes. "I'm not your captain, after all."  
  
Shaun's smile lifted at the edges. "A pity. I can think of a few ways you might be." He winked then, an echo of his former self.  
  
Jarett hoped his flush didn't show on his face, since the warmth went straight southward, curling in his belly and tingling in his groin.  
  
"Milk or sugar?" Shaun asked, offering both, as if he hadn't just flirted so openly and sent Jarett's mind to dirty places it shouldn't be right now, when he was trying to be a friend, and a supportive one at that.  
  
"Both," Jarett croaked, and coughed into his hand, clearing his throat. "Apologies. Too early. I don't think I've completely woken yet."  
  
Shaun laughed. "Not a morning person then?"  
  
"That depends entirely on the situation." Jarett accepted his tea, a milky brown instead of the dark black Shaun seemed to prefer. It wasn't ale, which would have steeled his courage, but Shaun had prepared it for him, so he'd drink it.  
  
"Late night?" Shaun guessed.  
  
Jarett shook his head and dug into the breakfast, the potatoes summoning him from the moment he dished them out. "I think anyone would have found it hard to sleep after that scare." He paused and flushed a little, tugging again at his collar. "Not that I didn't have the utmost faith in the barrier thing, but I'm a simple soldier. I don't know about magic or dragons or ancient dragons."  
  
"No offense taken, Jarett. And I think you are far from simple." Shaun hummed and stared into his cup, swirling the contents around. "We live in perilous times. Unease and worry are normal emotions, I should think." His face darkened, lines crinkling around his eyes.  
  
Those lines of worry had a name: Vox Machina. And no doubt, one man in particular.  
  
"They'll be fine," Jarett said, his potatoes sitting like a heavy lump in his stomach, so he took a gulp of the tea -- expecting it to be burning hot, but finding it the perfect temperature. "I don't think there's anything Vox Machina can't do. They have the luck of the gods."  
  
"Am I so easy to read?" Shaun fingered a piece of bacon before he nibbled on it.  
  
Jarett chuckled quietly, to take the sting out of it. "Only a little. And I think it's only because we all worry. We owe a lot to them, and the only way we can repay that is to worry." He paused, tilting his head. "And guard Whitestone in their absence. Make sure they have a home to come back to."  
  
"Home." Shaun hummed for a moment. He had such a nice voice, a pleasing tenor, and Jarett wondered if he would ever hear Shaun sing. "Now there's a word I haven't considered in quite some time."  
  
Jarett tilted his head. "You didn't consider Emon home?"  
  
"Oh, I did. It was one of many." Shaun's smile was soft and sad. "But now I've sent Vox Machina to my home, and it reminds me of how long it's been since I've gone back."  
  
Jarett blinked as Shaun confirmed what he'd already suspected. "You're Marquesian."  
  
"As are you." Shaun's smile brightened, more genuine and playful. "Though I suspect from a place much larger and interesting than myself."  
  
"Eh, Ankharel was bigger, but that made it a little bit more dangerous." Jarett pinched his fingers together and squinted. "Especially if you are, how should I say... not always on the right side of the law."  
  
"Some youthful indiscretions?" Shaun asked.  
  
"You could say that." Jarett scraped the last of the food from his plate, and cringed at how unmannerly the scrape of his fork was. "Best not to go back, however, so Emon is home now."  
  
Shaun nodded over his tea. "Yes, I've heard tale of the Oubliette." He'd not cleared his plate, but he'd eaten enough Jarett felt satisfied. The color had returned to his face at last. "Lucky you escaped such a fate."  
  
Luck in more ways than one, since it had caused him to cross paths with Shaun Gilmore. Luck indeed.  
  
"I suppose Whitestone is home now," Jarett said as he cupped his own tea, determined to finish it. "I've no doubt Vox Machina will defeat the dragons, but Emon won't be livable for quite some time."  
  
"You mean to stay?" Shaun asked.  
  
Jarett shrugged, and his fine, new uniform shrugged with him, rustling. "It won't be so bad, to stay in service to the de Rolos. Lady Cassandra is fair, and the pay is more than adequate." He thought of his former employers, and what little they saw for themselves, and how much he saw of them. "I suspect much of Vox Machina will elect to stay here as well."  
  
Vex'ahlia certainly might. Because Whitestone was Percival's home, and if those longing glances were any indication, Vex'ahlia wanted to be where Percival was.  
  
"What about you?" Jarett asked.  
  
Shaun tilted his head, lips pursed in thought. "Whitestone is recovering, and is certainly a good place to begin my business anew. I might'nt stay forever, but while Emon is rebuilding? Perhaps. I suppose it remains to be seen."  
  
A low sound abruptly echoed through the house, not enough to startle, but clear like a bell. Jarett blinked with confusion while Shaun sat up straight and put down his tea cup.  
  
"Oh, my. Look at the time. I'm sure you have somewhere to be, Captain." Shaun stood, one hand waving almost absently, as the dirtied dishware rose from the table.  
  
Jarett blinked and glanced out the window, where the sun rose higher in the sky. "You're right. I should be at the training grounds. I'm probably late now." He rose, adjusting his belt. "Let me help you with the dishes."  
  
"Nonsense. You brought breakfast, the least I can do is clean up." Shaun swept toward the kitchen, dishware bobbing along in his wake.  
  
“You’re too kind.” Jarett smoothed down his uniform, his heart pounding in his chest, and an unnameable warmth spreading through his body.  
  
Shaun’s laughter floated back to him, though there was something tight and restrained about it. “Kindness, I think my dear captain, is the reason I’m in the state I’m in.”  
  
Jarett stood in the doorway as Shaun directed the dishware into a low barrel full of soapy water. “We’d be dead without your kindness. It’s not without its merits.”  
  
Shaun glanced over his shoulder, hair curled and loose around his face. “I suppose you’re not wrong.” He flashed Jarett a smile. “Thank you, Jarett. And thank you for breakfast. It’s much appreciated.”  
  
“I’ll return tomorrow,” Jarett said, sweat threatening to gather in his underarms and over his palms, hoping Shaun wouldn’t say otherwise. “That is, if you don’t have other plans.”  
  
Water splashed as dishes made their way through the suds before landing in a rack to dry. “I’d hate to be such an inconvenience. I can manage my own meals.”  
  
Jarett folded his arms, leaned casually against the door frame. “Maybe I’m the one who doesn’t like to eat alone.”  
  
Shaun laughed, and the tightness in Jarett’s lungs eased. “Then I’ll be doing you a service, is that it?” The last dish landed in the rack, and Shaun wiped his hands dry, turning to face Jarett once more. “Well, I’m a kind man as you say, and so I’ll allow you to break fast with me again.”  
  
“The honor is mine.” Jarett swept into a deep bow. He raised up with a smile, and was rewarded with a smile from Shaun. It crinkled his eyes, softened his features.  
  
“Be on your way, dear captain,” Shaun said with an airy chuckle. “I’ll see you in the morning.”  
  
“Don’t work too hard, Shaun,” Jarett said, and made himself scarce before he showed himself too much of a fool. His heart had taken up a wild rhythm in his chest, and he was sure it must have been visible on his face.  
  
He’d visit the market on his way home tonight, he thought. Pick up something fresh for breakfast in the morning. Something to make Shaun smile.  
  
_Look after Gilmore for us_, Vox Machina had asked.  
  
That’s exactly what Jarett intended to do. Not because they’d asked, however, but because he wanted to. Anything to make Shaun smile.  
  


***

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing either of these characters, and dipping my toes in Campaign One, so I appreciate any and all feedback you'd be willing to offer me. :) I hope you liked it!


End file.
